A Father's Heart
by Neon Star
Summary: Pre LOTR, Legolas is lost in the woods after being captured by something. Thranduil goes after him to save him, and along the way, remembers.
1. Default Chapter

I don't like how Thranduil is portrayed as a sadistic, abusive father. So here is my little tale. Sorry for the short beginning, but, I'll have more later. Enjoy!  
  
A Father's Heart  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
Legolas looked at his father and held up his hands.  
  
"Ada," the little one giggled, blue eyes twinkling in pure innocent.  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
Thranduil shook the memory from his mind, but it continued to haunt him. He could almost hear Legolas's childish voice echoing through the dark trees. But he knew it was not Legolas that called for him, for Legolas had not used Ada in a long time. His youngest son was now five hundred and thought it best to call Thranduil Father instead. Thranduil had agreed, despite the ache in his heart at how his son was growing up and becoming more and more distant from him.  
  
He pulled himself away from such thoughts, and focused upon what had brought him out into these deep woods, into regions full of darkness and mystery. His youngest and last son was missing, and had been for nearly three days. Thranduil's heart shuddered in his chest as he pressed on with little food and no rest. He had to find him, as he was all Thranduil had left. 


	2. 

I am glad so many do not think that Thranduil is evil beyond belief or abusive, or whatnot. Thanks so much for all the reviews. And yay, FF.N is finally up and running! Let us hope it stays that way!  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
"My Lord," one scout spoke up, as he came near Thranduil's horse.  
  
"Have you found something?" Thranduil demanded.   
  
"Only this, milord," the scout said, and handed Thranduil a thin scrape of cloth.  
  
Thranduil looked at it. The same material and color that Legolas had been wearing that day that he was taken. Thranduil's lips pressed tightly together as he beheld that the green cloth was stained with blood, and his hand clenched around it.  
  
"We are on the right path, and we must hurry. Tell the others to get upon their horses or travel within the trees, time is running short," Thranduil snapped.  
  
The scout bowed and quickly ran back to find the others near the area.  
  
Thranduil unclenched his hand and stared at the strip.  
  
"We are coming, Legolas. Be strong, my son," he murmured, and then motioned his mount onwards.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Legolas, where are you headed?" Thranduil asked.  
  
Legolas turned, that sad, sweet smile upon his face, "Hunting, Father. Do you want to come?"  
  
"I fear not, Legolas, though anything would better then attending to these other things. But go on, and be careful," Thranduil said, returning his son's smile.  
  
Legolas nodded, and strolled out.  
  
Thranduil turned back to his work, when a dark feeling came to him. He turned to call Legolas back, but the feeling passed. He felt it just fatherly worry, and returned to his work.   
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
He shook his head. If only he had listened to what his heart had been telling him. Legolas wouldn't be gone if he had only listened. He had been devastated when he heard that Legolas had been taken, by the same creatures that had killed his oldest brother no less. Minuiind, his oldest son, had died protecting his last and youngest sibling from the creatures, and Legolas had never truly gotten over it.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"He's dead, isn't he?" Legolas whispered and Thranduil attended to the marks upon his fair check.  
  
Thranduil looked down, trying to hide the tears from his son.   
  
"Father, please tell me the truth," Legolas pleaded, his voice betraying the pain within him.  
  
"Your brother fought bravely, Legolas, and he paid for your life with his own. He loved you dearly, my son, and you must never forget that," Thranduil said softly, turning his glistening eyes to his son's tearful ones.  
  
"He can't be gone," Legolas whimpered, tears slipping down his battered face.  
  
Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment in sorrow, his heart aching. He then picked up Legolas and placed him in his lap. Legolas wrapped his arms around his Father's neck, and buried his face in his shirt. Thranduil held his son close, and silently cried with him.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Thranduil sighed, and a tear trailed down his check as he rode on, ahead of those in his command. He couldn't lose the last one. All of his children were dead, murdered, or died of some unknown cause. All except one. His little one, Legolas.   
  
"I've buried too many children in this life, but I shall not bury another one," he vowed. 


	3. 

Legolas groaned as he shifted slightly. Opening his eyes, he glanced around the clearing, and suppressed a cry as his pain slammed into him. Desperately he shifted through his memories, trying to find why he felt so horrible, for he had no wish to move and find out why.  
  
There had been an attack; most of his hunting party had been killed. Except him, and he did not understand why he was still living. The last thing he remembered was being shot in the back, and falling to the ground, striking his head upon a rock. That was where his memories stopped.   
  
Another question presented itself, what had attacked them. All he could remember was a blur of black, familiar and yet not to him.  
  
"So, little one, we meet again," a slight hiss filled his mind, so vile and dark that it hurt him.  
  
"No," he groaned, recognizing finally what had attacked them.  
  
He suppressed the whimper in his throat, and released the anger, letting it burn at the fear within him. He raised his head to glare at his attacker, and worst enemy.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
*He is near,* a voice in his mind prompted him.  
  
Thranduil snapped awake from his slight doze, and looked around. The air was still; quiet, and his fellow searchers had not spoken. So who could that have been?  
  
It sounded oddly familiar, yet so shadowed that he could to rightfully place it.  
  
What had it meant, that Legolas was near, or that the enemy was near? Could he truly trust this voice either way? These questions swarmed through him, yet within it, he knew he could trust this voice, and that the voice spoke of his missing son, as well as of the enemy.  
  
Quietly he signaled to his companions to be more alert, and then slipped off his horse. Handing the reigns to another Elf, he slipped into the trees to track his son on foot.  
  
Walking silently, his eyes trailed over the ground and the trees. Nothing escaped his sharp gaze as he moved, like a silent predator, waiting to attack at the slightest reason.   
  
Though Thranduil was a sometimes-harsh King, he was kind and wise in his own right, and always gentle with his own son. But to those that injured or try to injury those of his blood, did not receive mercy, and usually received a vicious end given from him himself. It had happened before, to all who dared to try it, or had succeeded, except in Minuiind's case. His killer had never been found, and Thranduil felt guilt at letting him get away. Now Legolas might pay for his Father's mistake, and Thranduil could not live with that.  
  
*I am coming, my son,* he sent silently, praying to the Valar that Legolas would hear him.  
  
His eyes then caught a slight sparkle in the sunlight. Turning, he went closer to the base of the tree and examined it. There drawn at the base of the tree was a single word written in blood in an old form of Elvish. Thranduil could smell that it was Elf blood, and the word sent a shiver down his spin as he read it.  
  
'Death.'  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
'Defiant to the last, little one? So much like your brother,' the voice hissed in his mind as he glared up in defiance.  
  
He did not respond, only continued to feed the anger within him. Remember Minuiind's last moments of pain, his brother's blood staining that creature's dagger. The very cry that issued from Minuiind as that cruel blade sunk in. The tears his Father had shed, the tears he had shed. He used these memories to make it grow, and make sure he would not back down from this threat, to suppress the fear he felt.  
  
'I thought so,' the creature hissed silently, running a icy cold hand across his check, the nails on that hand digging into Legolas's cheek, and drawing blood, 'But you shall fall, just as he did. Only I plan to make it far more painful for you, little one. Decedent of my enemy.'  
  
Legolas suppressed his confusion at this. Decedent of this creature's enemy? What did he mean?  
  
The creature laughed at the confusion it sensed.  
  
'You truly do not know, little one? My, has your mother taught you nothing of her history? Oh, wait, your mother is dead,' the creature said, dark amusement in its tone, 'Now she was a hard one to kill!'  
  
That anger in Legolas exploded into rage at the mention of his Mother. His mother had died trying to give birth to Legolas and his unfortunate twin. This creature had something to do with her death, and with the sad death of his twin!  
  
Legolas tore at his bonds, desperately wishing to kill the being before him. The creature only laughed, and slapped him, hard enough to nearly knock him senseless.   
  
'Stupid, elfling, do you truly think you can over come me? You shall be the one to pay for your decedent's folly, and it shall not be pleasant,'   
  
The creature then slammed Legolas's head back into the tree, knocking him unconscious. Then it knocked the princeling aside, who landed with his face in the dirt. The creature dipped a clawed finger into the puddle of blood, which had been collecting behind Legolas from the Elf's wounds, and scrawled a single word.   
  
It then picked up Legolas and stood. With a final glance at its work, it then disappeared into the woods with his captive. 


	4. 

Sorry for the long wait, RL has been intense these past few weeks. I've only been able to write for the last few days. Here is the post. Thanks for all the reviews! :)  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Thranduil knew it was now a race against time. They had been so close to taking back his son; to killing what creature had taken him. The blood was still fresh, still warm. They couldn't have gotten far...  
  
But the trail had been lost, and no sign could be found. The creature that had stolen his son seemed to have vanished, and Thranduil knew that they had little time left to find his son. The blood was already a warning to how badly Legolas was hurt, and how little time they had.   
  
Thranduil's anger was boiling as he searched for any trace of his son. The creature would not live long once Thranduil found it, that was for certain. The lose of his oldest son was still fresh in his mind; combined with the thought of losing his youngest was enough to drive Thranduil mad with rage. But he kept it in, kept his mind clear. To all around him, he seemed to ice cold, but that was only the calm before the storm that brewed within the Elven King.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Legolas groaned as consciousness returned to him. His head throbbed, his memories were scrambled, and he was too weak to open his eyes. But he knew he must, to see what the creature that had taken him was planning, though he felt he did not want to know. Forcing his eyes open slowly, he found his vision blurred for a few moments, and then slowly come into focus. The first thing he saw as his vision cleared was a reflection of his eyes staring back at him. Looking up, he saw the shadowed face of his capturer, who almost seemed to be leering down at him. Legolas tried to draw back, but could not as his back was pinned to the tree.  
  
'You have beautiful eyes, elfling, just like your grand sir,' the creature's voice crooned in his mind as the blade moved to caress his cheek, the sharp tip of it lightly cutting into his skin, leaving a trail like blood tears upon his fair face.  
  
Legolas flinched but did not pull away, some how knowing the creature would hurt him more if he did.   
  
'Though you didn't receive his hair coloring, you look so similar to him, ' the voice continued, switching the blade to his other cheek, and repeating the process.  
  
Legolas withheld his whimpers as he continued to look up at the creature, but he could not hold onto his tears. They slipped from the corners of his eyes, stinging as they trailed into the twin cuts on his cheeks.   
  
'It seems almost a pity to kill you. I wonder if you have your ancestor's voice of music. Why don't you sing?' the creature said cruelly, and trailed the blade under his chin.  
  
Legolas only continued to glare up at the creature and remained silent through his tears.  
  
'Ah, you think you are brave, little one?' the blade cut into the tender flesh of his neck, 'You're not. Though, you may be as stubborn as your ancestor, but not as brave.'  
  
The blade moved down, cutting into his tunic and into the skin of his chest. Thin whimpers were torn from him as the cruel blade dug deeper into his body, bringing more blood and pain as it went.   
  
'Perhaps you would like to see your tormentor's face?' the creature hissed, and pulled back its hood.  
  
Legolas's eyes widened in fear, and his scream echoed through the dark woods.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Thranduil's blood chilled as he heard his son's scream. Forcing his horse on, Thranduil raced through the forest, his sight directed in the direction from which his son's scream had come from.  
  
'They are there. Hurry, he can't hold off the other for long,' the voice again ran through Thranduil's mind as he left those in his company behind.  
  
Thranduil could not place the name, though it echoed powerfully in his memory. For a brief moment, he almost remembered, but it faded in the desperate need to reach his son before any more harm could be done to him. A second scream, more pain then fear now, rang once more in the dark forest, and Thranduil forced his mount to its limits.  
  
Suddenly, a flash came forth from the place that he was approaching. His mount reared up in fright, and Thranduil lost his balance in his own shock. He crashed to the ground, and his fair head hit a rock hidden in the dirt. Consciousness faded, and the he heard was his son screaming once more. Fighting the blackness that sought to pull him down into its depths, Thranduil rose to his feet slowly, his head pounding as the blood poured from the cut at his brow. Staggering forward, he finally was able to make it to where he knew his son was. Leaning upon a tree for support, his hand upon his sword, Thranduil focused himself for the battle he knew to be ahead. Shock filled Thranduil as he looked up to a sight that he had never seen before, or would ever see again.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Legolas couldn't withhold his scream as he looked into black holes of the rotting skull's head, where eyes should have been.  
  
"You're ancestor's face, yet not his soul. Seems to be a proper vessel when killing those of his decent. I shall soon be after the one who he was soul bound to, then my revenge will be complete. But for now, I shall satisfy myself with you, little one," the creature hissed through rotted lips, the teeth of its mouth broken and yellow.  
  
The blade the creature held ran up, again cutting into the pale flesh beneath Legolas's tunic. Legolas whimpered, in fear and pain. Suddenly the blade stopped, at his right shoulder, and began to slowly push inward. Legolas withheld his screams as it broke the skin, and cleaved into the muscle, making its way to the bone, but when the blade was suddenly twisted in the wound, the pain exploded within him, and his second scream was torn from him in agony.  
  
Suddenly, a blast of pure light came before Legolas, and he shielded his eyes with his left arm. He could hear the creature's scream of pure fury, and shook with the intensity of it.  
  
'You shall not harm him further, Gothmog, and you shall remove yourself from my body,' a voice echoed in Legolas's young mind.  
  
The voice was strong, unyielding, yet like silver water, for it was slick and cool as ice. It was a voice that he knew, but Legolas knew not from where. Opening his eyes, he beheld a sight that surpassed all other sights he had seen in his short years. Before him stood an Elf Lord of old, with silver and blue armor, and a sword clenched in one hand as the Elf's silver hair blew in the wind. The Elf Lord faced the dark creature head on, his back to Legolas. Legolas scrambled to the side, finding that some time during the moments when his eyes had been closed, the horrid blade had been removed from his shoulder. Yet the pain was still intense, and he knew not why as he tried to stanch the flow of blood coming from the wound.  
  
Turning back to the conflict, he finally viewed the face of his savior. The Elf looked similar to Legolas himself, and indeed, he seemed to be the owner of the rotting corpse before him.  
  
"You should not have come near my own, Gothmog, nor taken what is not yours to take. Now, I may finally finish the job by which I and others started, Balrog, and you shall meet your dark maker in the abyss," the Elf said, and with drew his sword. 


	5. 5

Well, I'm able to get it here faster. This seriously was going to be the post to end it, then my plot bunny grew. Ah well, next part should be up in a week. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! I was overwhelmed by your wondrous comments. :) I'm messing with Thranduil's power over things, so it probably doesn't fit cannon. Oh, to answer one question. Yes, this is before LOTR.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
Thranduil drew himself out of his dazed state, and went silently to his son's side. Gently, he took the younger Elf in his arms, and Legolas buried his face into his shoulder, shuddering slightly in terror and pain.  
  
"Ada," Legolas whispered.  
  
"Shhh, nin ion, we will leave as soon as we are able," Thranduil said, his eyes trailing from his son to the two opponents in front of him.  
  
Holding his son close to him, he gently examined the wound on Legolas's shoulder. Worry mounted in him as he noted that the blood coming forth was not red as it should be, but black as night.   
  
The corpse let out an ugly laugh that echoed through the small clearing, "I am far to powerful now for even you to stop me, Ecthelion of the Lost," the creature spat.  
  
"Perhaps, for I am but a shadow from Mandos's halls, yet, I am far greater then you shall ever be. Address me as I am, for I am no longer of the lost," the spirit said, and his sword blazed forth, "Come forth and let us finished this, or would you throw more defiled words from your stolen mouth?"  
  
"This foul body is rightfully mine, as are your decedents and that resurrected fool of your heart, for they are the payments that you owe me for killing me," Gothmog said.  
  
"I owe you nothing, " Ecthelion spat.  
  
"It matters not now. I will not give up your body, I have avenged myself upon all of your linage, for the young one will be joining you soon enough, and the soul of your brother is near mine. There is nothing you can do," Gothmog leered.  
  
"But I can," Thranduil murmured, and released the carefully kept anger in his soul.   
  
The faint harmony within the forest had been silent, until it heard its master's call. Now it roared up in full splendor, terrifying and dangerous in its own ways, and was bent by Thranduil's will to center around Gothmog.   
  
The dagger in the corpse's hand dropped to the ground as Gothmog tried to cover his ears, to no avail.  
  
"You should never have dared to come near my family," Thranduil hissed, holding his shuddering child tightly in his arms, "And now you will pay"  
  
The harmony rose, turning sharp as a sword that pierced through to Gothmog's mind and soul, draining all power from him as it crashed upon him. Then Ecthelion moved quickly, and his sword flashed as it sank into the corpse's chest. The rotted skin and cloth peeled back from the sword, revealing a dark soul within. Gothmog screamed in agony, and the body exploded. Thranduil covered Legolas as sharp bone and sickly flesh rained around them, then he turned his back to see that where the corpse had stood, a black infernal raged, with Ecthelion's sword still imbedded in it. The dark spirit then disappeared, but Thranduil could not suppress the feeling that it was not over yet.  
  
Ecthelion turned, and he seemed a shade more translucent now then when Thranduil had first laid eyes upon him. Kneeling, the silver Elf Lord, smiled faintly at him.  
  
"So, my daughter's daughter's husband, at last we meet, though it be upon such dreaded terms," Ecthelion said, and reached out with a tender hand to Legolas.  
  
Thranduil nearly pulled his son away from the spirit, for he trusted none to touch his son when he was grievously wounded. Yet when Ecthelion gently touched Legolas's cheek, careful of the scars it had, the young Elf seemed to relax more, and his eyes fluttered shut.   
  
"I can do nothing, even for one of my own and Gothmog is still about, waiting for this one's soul to depart. No healer in your halls can save him now," Ecthelion said sadly.  
  
"Then what can I do?" Thranduil asked, for he sensed that this was true, Legolas was wounded more then physically, and no healer within his kingdom could help him.  
  
"The son of my Lady's son is the only one that can save him now, for only he and his line were given such a gift. But Gothmog travels there as well, for he seeks my brother's soul, so you had best be on your guard," Ecthelion said and stood.  
  
"Will you travel with us?" Thranduil asked.  
  
"As long as the Valar let me. Do you know of what place and who I speak of?" Ecthelion asked.  
  
"Rivendell, and Elrond, yes I know," Thranduil said.  
  
His pride was great when it came upon the subject of Elrond, for the two had never been close, and after the Last Alliance, they had parted nearly enemies. But now was not the time to bring up the past, for even his pride was such a small matter when it came to his son.  
  
The sound of horses and soft Elven feet came to Thranduil's ears. Gathering his son in his arms, he stood and was struck by a wave of dizziness. He had forgotten that he was injured slightly, but he cared nothing for it at the moment, his son was far more important.   
  
The first of his captains came forth from the thick foliage, leading Thranduil's horse behind him. The younger Elf paled slightly as he caught sight of Legolas's limp form in Thranduil's arms.  
  
"My lord, is he?" the captain started, but Thranduil interrupted him.  
  
"No, he is not. But I must leave immediately for Rivendell," Thranduil said, and hurried forth to his horse.  
  
Sitting Legolas upon the saddle, he then quickly got up behind him, ignoring the pain growing in his mind. Gently laying his son to rest upon his chest, he then took up the reigns from his captain.  
  
"Tell Calenfalas to take charge," Thranduil said, and rode forth, leaving the shocked captain behind.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
I think I should explain Ecthelion for those that have not read Silmarillion. Ecthelion is the Chief of the House of the Fountains. He slew Gothmog, and in doing so, was slain as well. The reverence to 'The Lost' is apart of my fic, 'Fire and Water' which tells the lives of Glorfindel and Ecthelion in the first age, it is only a reverence that Ecthelion's parents were taken by Morgoth, and Ecthelion was left, lost. 


	6. 6

Thank you for your excellent comments! This is a bit short, as I am battling writer's block, and I hope it is not too bad...  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
He rode on, only stopping briefly to allow his horse to rest, but nothing more. The pain that plagued his mind slowly disappeared as the wound healed itself, but Legolas worsened as they went. The wound on his shoulder would not close, and every day he grew more pale, quiet, and his soul song began to fade.  
  
Finally they arrived at Rivendell, to find Elrond waiting for them upon the steps of his house, Glorfindel waiting in the shadows behind him. Thranduil took little notice of him as he swung from his horse, and pulled his son down into his arms. Hurrying to Elrond, he looked up pleadingly to the Elven Lord, his pride all but shattered in the face of his child's coming death.   
  
"Come, we have little time," Elrond said, sweeping swiftly into his house, Thranduil upon his heels.   
  
Just as they crossed through the doorway, a chill blew past Thranduil, and he faintly heard dark laughter echo upon it. Turning slightly, his eyes caught those of Glorfindel, and another chill swept down his spin as he looked upon the abyss of sorrow that was open within those green depths.  
  
Tearing his gaze from Glorfindel's, Thranduil quickened his pace to catch up with Elrond.   
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
"Set him there," Elrond instructed, moving to a table covered with different medical objects.  
  
Thranduil did as he bid, placing his dying son upon the cold table, "How did you know we were coming?"  
  
"Glorfindel sensed it this morning, and I do not question him when he says such things," Elrond said, picking up a bottle and pouring it into the mixture that he was preparing.  
  
"What can you make of this?" Thranduil asked.  
  
Elrond turned grave eyes to him, "From what I am able to sense now, I must act quickly, or we shall loose Legolas," he said bluntly.  
  
/He won't die; he has too great a destiny to die yet. I would watch my back though, for Gothmog has beaten us here,/ Ecthelion's voice echoed in Thranduil's mind.  
  
Legolas suddenly shuddered, and his eyes slipped open, "Ada?" he called softly.  
  
"I am here, nin ion," Thranduil said soothingly, though his heart clenched in his chest at how weak Legolas sounded.  
  
"He is here, isn't he?" Legolas asked.  
  
"Do not worry for it, I shall let anything further happen," Thranduil said, taking hold of Legolas's hand, as he hoped he would be able to fulfill that promise.  
  
Legolas nodded tiredly, and his eyes slid close.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Glorfindel watched from the hall, waiting to see if Elrond would need his help. He was worried for the young prince, for he sensed what Elrond did, though he was no healer himself. But another feeling pledged him as well. A sense of strange weariness was slowly seeping into his mind, and slowly he was losing the battle against it.  
  
But a soft voice seemed to beg him to stay awake; to not give in, the same voice that told him the Thranduil was coming. He again trusted this voice, though he knew not why, and continued to fight, even though it was a losing battle. 


	7. 7

/His soul is within my grasp, even now he falls as you did,/ Gothmog crowed, causing Ecthelion to shudder under his dark triumph.  
  
/Far from it, for Glorfindel's heart still burns strong, and I still remain to guard him,/ Ecthelion denied, his hand going to his sword.  
  
/So you say, child of the Fountain. Yet my darkness is slowly destroying even his heart, and his light steadily fades,/ Gothmog said, pointing to the Elf in question, who was evermore sinking to the ground, his emerald eyes near black in despair.  
  
Ecthelion looked, and despair filled his heart, for before him stood Glorfindel, his light nearly out as darkness came forth to devour him. That despair turned quickly to anger as he sensed what caused such darkness to come forth. It was not the past that haunted Glorfindel, but the spirit in front of him. Rage filled his being as he turned eyes filled with icy fire to the demon.  
  
/You have caused his suffering; you are forcing him to fade! For no reason then to satisfy your foul revenge!/ Ecthelion thundered, the thought of his friend's late night surrenders to heart breaking despair whispering through his mind, and the knowledge of who was responsible burned like fire.  
  
/So I have, in repayment,/ the demon sneered, and a smirk wove around his black lips.  
  
/He did nothing to aid or hinder you or I! I alone should pay the price,/ Ecthelion snapped, and then stepped forward to aid his friend and soul brother.  
  
Only to find Gothmog's foul darkness blocking his access to his brother's soul. Turning hard, sharp eyes to the demon, Ecthelion snarled, only to be met with Gothmog's smug sneer.  
  
/You have a choice, my slayer, between the life of your kin, and your soul brother, both of great value to you and Arda. Which will you choose, the child or the reborn?/ Gothmog asked, his face twisting into a horrid look of glee.  
  
Rage exploded in the normally calm tempered Elf Lord, /You have no right to make me choose between them, foul beast of Morgoth! And I shall not choose, for their lives are not mine, and my punishment should not be theirs! Not even Manwe himself could force me to choose!/  
  
/Ah, but I do have the right to force this choice upon you, for the golden one's life hangs in my hands, and your kindred cannot defend himself against me, and the poison that even now rots his blood. It will be a shame to destroy either of them, for both would make wondrous hosts, but they are both too pure for me to posses, even in death. Now choose,/ Gothmog said, his eyes burning with the black fires of his revenge.  
  
/He will not, for no one will choose for or against the life of my son, and my friend,/ another voice entered the fray, and the two spirits turned to Thranduil, who stood glaring coldly in their direction, though he could not see them, yet hear them by some trait passed to him when he had destroyed Gothmog's formerly possessed body, /I will not allow it. Will you not take some other way, besides taking their lives?/  
  
Gothmog looked in surprise at the Elven King, then his black eyes shone at another prospect. It would mean relinquishing his right to kill the child, for a brief while, and his power on the golden one would wane for a brief bit, but for such a thing....  
  
/I can think of one thing I would take,/ Gothmog sent coldly, gleefully.  
  
Ecthelion shuddered nearby, feeling what his adversary wished for, and powerless to stop what would come.  
  
Thranduil could sense the demon's desire as well, and his heart grew cold as he accepted it, for he could not let this demon steal his child's life, nor that of his long time, if distant at times, friend. They both were needed, yet his part in history had been played, and he would not be of great lose.  
  
Glancing over his son's pale, yet peaceful features, he gently squeezed his son's tiny hand in his, and let go. Elrond glanced at him curiously, yet Thranduil ignored him, his sharp gaze riveted to the wrathful spirit.   
  
/My body is yours, if you swear to never to come near my son again,/ he sent, his eyes hard and cold at the thought of what he offered, yet his love swirled in his heart, making him sure of his decision.  
  
Gothmog smiled, approaching the brave King, /Agreed,/ he sent, then touched Thranduil's chest, beginning to force the current soul from the body, and force his within.  
  
Suddenly Legolas opened his eyes wide in terror as he felt a piece of his soul grow cold. Glancing sharply at his Adar, a sound of horror escaped his lips and he sat up, his body trembling in exhaustion. Elrond did not restrain him, his own senses assaulted with the cold suddenly rolling from Thranduil's rigid frame, and his eyes sought the sightless, yet horror filled eyes of the Elven King.  
  
Outside the doorway, Ecthelion quickly went over what he could do to prevent this, yet found nothing, for the Elven King had given his body freely, in replacement for his son's life. Glancing to Glorfindel, he noticed in slight worry that his friend's eyes were turned inward, seemingly unaware of what was happening.  
  
/It is all right, Ecthelion, I am aware, I am only looking for a way to fight Gothmog,/ his best friend's voice rang within him, and he smiled slightly against the crushing weight of guilt and horror at what was happening.  
  
Suddenly he felt a golden essence touch his own silvery one, and he looked into the eyes of his brother.  
  
/You didn't,/ he thought to the other, glancing at the seemingly discarded body laying on the floor beside the door, whose wide green eyes stared at nothing, while its owner looked at him in stressed amusement.  
  
/It is the only way. With our combined strength, we should be able to send the best back to Morgoth, or where ever those of his dark soul go,/ Glorfindel sent.  
  
/Can you return, mellon nin?/ Ecthelion sent worriedly, again glancing at the seemingly discarded body.  
  
/If Manwe wishes. But come, we are wasting time,/ Glorfindel said, and held forth his golden ethereal hand.  
  
Ecthelion took it without hesitation, and their souls merged as they had during their stay in Mandos, becoming two pieces of the same whole, in a bond that was rivaled only by that of two pairs of twins in the history of Arda.*  
  
/Lets get him,/ Glorfindel said, and they went forth as one.  
  
The remaining black essence of Gothmog that resided outside the slowly becoming possessed body turned to them, and fear shimmered from him.  
  
/That's right, foul demon, fear before the Lords of Gondolin, and fear the wrath of a father protecting his child, even though he is only by marriage, he is still of my house, and none shall take him, nor his child,/ Ecthelion sent.  
  
Gothmog shirked away from their power, but his voice came to them, shaking slightly but remaining mostly calm.  
  
/I took down the Spirit of fire**, I can take the souls of two lesser beings as well,/ Gothmog sent.  
  
/You had help then, and the Spirit of fire consumed himself. Prepare to enter the void, Morgoth's spawn,/ Glorfindel sent, then the two leapt forward upon the other, their different swords shimmering and blending like the light of the trees of old.  
  
Together they forced the demon from his captive body, and he would have fled before their rage, for he knew them to be Valar blessed, and he could not fight them in his weakened form. But another soul held him fast from escaping, and laughed at his torment.  
  
/Truly did you think you could posses one of Oropher's linage? My father was stubborn against even the King of the Noldor, and his son is just as stubborn. May you rot in what torments wait you,/ Thranduil's voice echoed through spiritual plain, and his green gold shade of spirit held the struggling demon in grips that rivaled any metal hold in Arda.  
  
The two coming spirits, smiled at him, surprised at how strong the other against the full darkness of Gothmog. Then they charged the struggling demon, and rammed their spirit swords into him, sending his soul into the void, though it is not said whether he would remain with his wicked Master, or return to Arda to wreak his vengeance once more.  
  
Thranduil relaxed his harden stance that he had taken against the beast, and smiled at Glorfindel and Ecthelion.   
  
/Tell me, my friend, how did you hold out for so long against Gothmog?/ Glorfindel sent.  
  
Thranduil turned to the still frightened Legolas staring at his still body, and sighed softly as he turned back to them, urgency to return to his body and comfort his son burning within him, /The love of a father is great, and I felt Gothmog's deception. I could not leave my son to his hands, for not even Elrond could protect him once he possessed my body. So I fought, and my love won over his hatred./  
  
Ecthelion nodded, and smiled, understanding within his own heart, for he would have done the same for his daughter.   
  
/I am proud that you are apart of my household, Thranduil, and that I am of yours. Hurry, for your son needs you now,/ Ecthelion said, and Thranduil smiled briefly, glad that the Elven Lord understood his need.  
  
Slipping back into his body, Thranduil took a deep breath as he took in the shock of being reclothed in his form, before turning to his son and Elrond.  
  
"Do not stare so much, Elrond, for are you not suppose to be attending my son?" he asked, though his eyes sparkled with amusement, yet he could sense that Elrond had indeed been setting himself to protect Legolas as well by the weary tense of his fellow Elf's body, which began to relax under his slight teasing.  
  
Stepping forward, he gently took his son's hand, and smiled, the other hand running fondly through his son's silvery gold locks, "I am well, ion nin, and he shall never trouble you again."  
  
Legolas smiled briefly, before pulling closer to his Adar, and hugging him as tightly as his weakened limbs could. Now that Gothmog's evil presence had been extinguished, the poison in the young Elf's body was residing, but it would take time for him to heal.   
  
Wrapping his arms gently around his son's form, he kissed his child's hair, thanking the Valar for the strength to protect him, for as long as he could. For now, he knew he would help his son to heal, and grow strong once more under both the care of Elrond, and his Father.  
  
The two spirits smiled at this scene before exiting the room, returning to the fallen form nearby.  
  
/It seems that Mandos calls me now that my task is done, though I do not wish to be parted from either my kin nor you after our last breakage,/ Ecthelion sighed, though true sadness would not come, for his soul felt happiness for his grand daughter's husband and son.   
  
/Ah, but our last breakage was made in pain, and was meant to be. Now you return to the halls, because your time is nearly done. I shall be seeing you when I reach the Undying Lands soon enough,/Glorfindel said, smiling fondly as he released the other's hand, and their souls unmelded.   
  
There was no pain this time as they parted, and Glorfindel slowly went to his body. Turning just before he touched the fallen form, he turned back, /Tell my wife to not grieve, my pain is lifting. But warn Manwe that he should protect his courts, for the Lords of Gondolin shall once again be united soon./  
  
/So I shall tell her, and Manwe hopefully will not put forth the curse of Mandos again upon the Noldor to keep you from Aman!/ Ecthelion laughed, then he became serious, though a smile lingered in his eyes, /Take care of my kindred, and those of your charges as well./  
  
/Of course, or else I would not have come,/ a brief smile, then Glorfindel returned to his body, and stood, fully reclothed once more as Ecthelion faded back into the halls of Mandos.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Notes:  
  
Ecthelion took it without hesitation, and their souls merged as they had during their stay in Mandos, becoming two pieces of the same whole, in a bond that was rivaled only by that of two pairs of twins in the history of Arda.*   
  
The twins mentioned are Elros and Elrond, as well as Elladan and Elrohir. The melding of souls is a creation of mine, and I figured it would be like to that of twins, though Ecthelion and Glorfindel are not related.  
  
Spirit of fire** This is a reference to Feanor, for those who have not read Silmarillion. Feanor was of the greatest of Elves, and was slaughtered by Gothmog.  
  
Thank you all for your wondrous comments! And I am sorry I can't comment on each, but time is short, and I have only just had time to write and correct this for you. As it is, this is probably the end, unless I consider a epilogue for it, but that is unlikely. Thank you for waiting through my long absences. A writer is truly blessed to have such readers as you! :) 


End file.
